Alone
by Pixie Pie 3
Summary: I always seemed to have a good memory, but what happens when I loose it?
1. Cold Floor

Alone  
  
Disclaimer: Anything related to J.K. Rowling's HP novels is not mine.  
  
I can't believe it! Here I am, pathetically sitting in front of the Gryffindor common room for the third time this week because I, again, so carelessly forgot the password. It's strange though, especially for me to be forgetful, because I could memorize Harry's schedule every day, and I don't know what has gotten into me lately, for I seem to be loosing and forgetting everything nowadays. Anyway, I was stuck here, and was harsh to face reality. It was hard enough to sit on the stone cold floor with a nearby window open, ruffling my hair with a gentle breeze, but to make matters worse the portrait of the fat lady, who was giving me a look of utter dislike, kept going, "hmph" every once in a while, much rather like something Hermione would do.  
  
It seemed as though hours passed as I sat there freezing from head to toe. It was a good thing I had brought my books along with me; at least I had something to do, even though I was finishing a particularly nasty report for my potions teacher, Professor Snape, on healing potions for vampire blood connections.  
  
After my homework (that I currently had with me) had been completed, I sat there staring at nothing in particular just wondering what to do next. Maybe I could go down to the great hall and try to find a Gryffindor to help me into the common room. Besides, the feast was going to start soon, well, I look at my watch to check the time, it was only 5:30, maybe not.  
  
I sat there for a while and, suddenly making up my mind, I stand up and collect my things from the floor. Just then, I hear footsteps on the ground, approaching in my direction by the sound of it. As I stood there, wondering if I should run for it in case it was a teacher or Filch looking for students to punish, I see someone come into view just around the corner.  
  
It was Harry.  
  
Oh great! Just what I need, Harry to see me like this, blue now from the cold, wandering around absentmindedly.  
  
He walks casually down the corridor, with one hand in his robe pocket, and the other swinging a newspaper, by the looks of it, The Daily Prophet. I want to run for it, but my legs don't seem to want to move, as though they're nailed down to the floor. I look down to hide my face, I didn't want him to see me, and I quickly smooth my hair on my head.  
  
He comes to a halt in front of me. I can only see his shoes, for I don't look up.  
  
"Ahh, Ginny?" he sounds curious, "Are you okay?"  
  
I get red and hot in the face from being addressed by him.  
  
"Ah," I utter, still staring at my feet. "Ah huh"  
  
"Are you sure? You look distressed."  
  
That Harry Potter. No wonder he's such a great wizard, he can see right through you. That's partly one of the things that makes me so nervous around him, it's as though he can read your mind. No I think no one else has that kind of strength, well except for Dumbledore, but still, he believes whatever his eyes tell him. Even if this is the way I really feel about him, I don't let my feeling show on the outside.  
  
"No, no," I say in a rather higher voice than usual, "I'm fine."  
  
I look up for the first time and stare into those bright green eyes. He looks concerned.  
  
"No, really, I am," I tell him, blushing furiously, "honestly." I add, hoping what sounds like a firm conclusion.  
  
Harry stares at me, unconvinced, but drops the subject. I let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"Have you seen Ron or Hermione anywhere?"  
  
"Oh.no, I'm sorry." I'm breathing hard now, but hoping that it isn't apparent.  
  
"Oh, okay, well I'm going to the library to finish up some work. See you!" And he turns around and starts off the opposite direction.  
  
It's now or never. I know I have to do it now, before it's too late. God I hate my conciseness! But before I knew what I was doing, I shouted after him.  
  
"Harry wait!" I run toward him and he turns around.  
  
"Yeah? What is it?"  
  
I blush again; I love it when he's concerned. But then suddenly I forget what I was going to ask him. Oh no, why now? I think to myself. He's staring at me waiting for an answer, while I replace the silence with long "uhhhh's." After a while, it all starts to come back too me.  
  
"Oh, um," There's a long pause as I'm gathering enough courage to ask him.  
  
Finally, "Whatsthepasswordtothecommonroom?" I ask, blending all of my words into one long word.  
  
He's searching my face, clearly confused on what I had just said.  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
I take a deep breath, choosing to use clearer sentences without having to repeat them over again and feeling like a complete idiot. "What's the password to the common room?" I repeat, this time much more understandable.  
  
"Oh, it's Poisangust." Says Harry, sounding a little surprised.  
  
"Right, thanks." I forge a smile, but I feel really dumb at the moment. He smiles back (my heart somersaults), turns, and sets off toward the library.  
  
I turn and walk the opposite direction. I feel relieved, glad that that was over. As I approach the fat lady, Ron comes running into view. Oh god, are they all spread out? He seems to be in a hurry.  
  
"What's up Ron?" I ask him, plainly interested.  
  
"Oh hi Ginny. Have you seen Harry, it's really important?" He's panting a little. At the mention of Harry's name I pay more attention.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"None of your business Ginny, I have to find Harry." He says, annoyed, "Have you seen him?"  
  
What seemed so urgent that he couldn't tell me? And who says I take "none of your business" for an answer? I take this moment to my advantage.  
  
"Oh yes. He just came by here, and told me that he's going to the great hall to get a snack." I brake off, searching for more words.  
  
"And?" He asks, pressing me on.  
  
"And then he said he was going to the owlery to send a letter, come back here in about an hour, go to quidditch practice, come back, take a shower, and then go down to the feast." I say gleefully. He looks abashed, and gives me a small "Thanks".  
  
He turns, and starts down the stairs. Oh, did it feel good to get back at him. Just then, I had sudden idea. I strode over to the railing, leaned over, and shouted out to him, "Oh Ron? Before you do all that, Harry told me that he had to have a word with Professor Dumbledore, so he went down to his office. You know where it is, right?" I paused for a moment, letting those words sink in, and enjoying the horrified look on his face. "Oh and from what I heard you have to have a password to get in. Good luck!!" I added and left to the portrait hole, wickedly grinning, and laughing to myself. 


	2. Memory Loss

Memory Loss  
  
Disclaimer: Anything related to J.K. Rowling's novels.  
  
What has gotten into me lately? I thought miserably. I was in the girls dormitory, brushing my hair and undressing for bed. As I climbed into my four-poster, twitched the hangings shut to block out the ray of moonlight, and laid back, I began to wonder. Why was I forgetting everything nowadays? Why was it that almost every ten minutes, or so, I would forget what I had previously done? Most people would consider this abnormal, and I would agree, but losing your memory for a month now was beyond abnormal, it was ludicrous! If I wasn't mistaken, I would have to say that there was a spell going on, and a dark one at that.  
  
I was hardly ever rude to Ron, and just before dinner I had lied to him. I never forgot the password to the Gryffindor tower, and I just this afternoon I had sat in front of the portrait hole with no means of how to get in.  
  
Carrying on these thoughts, I felt myself almost instantly fall asleep..  
  
Suddenly, as though I were being slapped in the face, I felt someone shaking me awake. It was morning judging by the light that came flooding onto my sheets and hangings.  
  
"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed jumping out of bed, "I'm late! I've got potions now, and I've only just got up!"  
  
Quickly I dashed around the room, and gathered my books. I was starting to put on my sock when-  
  
"Ginny!" said a voice.  
  
"Huh?" I said looking up. It was Hermione. She looked at me curiously.  
  
"Where are you rushing to? Today's Sunday, remember?" she told me.  
  
"What? Oh! Right, I.. I forgot." I stopped midway with my sock hanging on my toe. I thought hard, and I couldn't recall what had happened the night before whatsoever.  
  
"I just came to wake you," she said still eying me suspiciously, "because Ron wants a word."  
  
"What does he want?" I asked her.  
  
"Oh, I don't know, he didn't say, but he seemed angry, mind you," said Hermione matter-of-factly.  
  
So, with a swift movement, I brushed passed Hermione, and headed downstairs. Ron was sitting in a corner by the fireplace, deeply involved in a game of chess with Harry.  
  
"Morning," I said, seating myself in between the two.  
  
"Ginny," said Ron very seriously, "I have a bone to pick with you."  
  
I stared, confused, at Ron, then to Harry, and back again.  
  
"Is something wrong?" I said finally.  
  
"Yes. Why'd you make me run around like that all over the castle searching for Harry?" He asked angrily.  
  
I stared, and thought. What was Ron talking about? I was so confused.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't do any of that!" I said definitely.  
  
"Yes you did! Remember yesterday afternoon? I asked you where Harry was." said Ron, egging me on, trying to get my thoughts back in the right place, but they didn't come.  
  
"No," I said truthfully.  
  
Ron stared, mouth open at me.  
  
"Please don't tell me that you forgot putting me through all of that suffering!"  
  
"I guess I did," I said with a shrug.  
  
Ron looked as though he had lost his temper with me. Hermione who had noticed this too, as Ron's face turned bright pink, made an attempt to drop this argument.  
  
"Ron," she started, "Don't take it so hard on her. How about we go visit Hagrid? Maybe that'll cheer you up."  
  
So the three of them got up, with many complaints from Ron, and headed out of the common room, leaving me to dwell on the past. 


	3. Guilt

Disclaimer: not mine  
  
I woke with a start on an early Monday morning, with a sudden rush of guilt. I sat there for over a quarter of an hour, too tired to get out of bed. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table, which read 5:30.  
  
I must've been up since four a.m., I thought.  
  
I slumped back down on my pillow and tried desperately to clear my mind, but couldn't. I let out an exasperate sigh, and rubbed my sleepy eyes. That was the thing about me; once I woke up, then I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep again. But the big question now was why. Why did I wake up at four in the morning feeling guilty?  
  
There was no point trying to recall what I did the night before, because now I was fully aware of the fact that I lost my memory. I had visited the hospital wing a while ago, and questioned Madam Pomfrey of my memory loss, but she insisted that it was just due to stress, and that it would go away after a while. I, however, wasn't convinced. It had been a week since my fight with Ron, and still I don't know what started it. He assumed I was pretending I didn't know, and just playing a fowl joke on him, and no matter how many times I tried to tell him that that wasn't true, he ignored me and walked away. So I finally gave up. I mean it wasn't so bad that he wasn't speaking to me, but I only wish I knew why. There was no one I could really talk to about this situation, because no one I knew was going through the same thing as me. So all I had to keep my mind off everything going on was homework and Quidditch. I had joined the Quidditch team, along with Harry, who was captain now, and Ron. Only I wished that Ron wasn't part of the team, because then I wouldn't have to put up with him on the field.  
  
I looked at the alarm, now reading 7:30. Still I had a deep feeling of guilt inside, but I didn't know why. So, at last I decided to get out of bed, and take a shower. I lifted my shower robe off its hock and proceeded to the bathroom.  
  
~~***~~ ~~***~~  
  
I gloomily walked out of potions, thinking about the essay (two rolls of parchment) that Professor Snape had assigned us. I was walking with my head down and my eyes staring at my feet that I didn't even notice whom I had run into. My bag tipped, books scattering all over the flour.  
  
I looked up to see none other that Draco Malfoy's cold eyes looking down at me. Crabbe and Goyle by his side.  
  
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" He drawled, "Looks like we've run into Potter's girlfriend."  
  
My eyes flashed with anger, my whole face turning red. I stood up and stared into those cold malicious eyes, which stared back. I felt immense hatred for him, and was thinking of some kind of comeback to through at him when quite suddenly, I felt her brains turn cold, as if someone had just switched the light off in my head. I flinched, and wrinkled my forehead in confusion, releasing the stare of hatred between us. I couldn't recall what was happening or where I was. All I could think of was guilt, strong guilt. Everything turned into a blur, and I could hear a voice in the distance, probably Malfoy rambling on. But I paid no attention, instead, visions passed through my mind. Visions of the past Quidditch game that Gryffindor lost to Slytherin. Visions of the time I almost died in the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry almost dying in the Triwizard Tournament. These things were racing through my mind, my brain unable to withdraw them. But through all of this, my guilt within me seemed to be trying to explode outward. I sank to my knees, unable to take it any more.  
  
"It's my fault!" I screamed, holding my head in my hands.  
  
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at me, and then smirked, his expression a mixture between loathing and what strangely looked like satisfaction.  
  
"Well, it seems like the little weasel had a few shots," he said with perfect calmness.  
  
And with that he left with a swift walk past me, Crabbe and Goyle right behind, trampling over my books with their dirty shoes. 


	4. The Beginning

Disclaimer: Based on JK Rowling's Harry Potter novels Spoilers: All five books.  
  
The incident with Malfoy a couple of days ago was still on my mind. Why had I suddenly lost all thoughts, but one? Was I suddenly going crazy, or was it just stress like normal people get? I didn't know what was going on with me and little did I want to do with it. Why? Oh, I don't know, maybe it's just a bit unusual to have a brain fart everyday! So, I started making up excuses about my memory. I told people I was stressed because of the new transfiguration tests once a week, or I had a bad case of head cold, or I simply had too much to do and too much on my mind that I couldn't seem to remember some unimportant things. No one seemed to buy it, and the teachers began to get a bit concerned.  
  
"I swear I'm okay. Really!"  
  
"Ms. Weasley, you seem to be struggling with issues other than academics. Everyday, I watch you struggle to even find your seat. Perhaps there are too many extra-curricular activities in your life that cause this unexplainable memory loss?" said Professor McGonagall one day after class when she had called me to speak with her privately.  
  
I didn't know what to say. Truthfully, I didn't know what the matter was with me either, and I definitely didn't want her to get involved.  
  
"You'd better drop by the infirmary just to make sure nothing dangerous is going on," she said with a severe voice that made it harder to argue with.  
  
I knew I couldn't tell her about everything that was going on with me. I'd be hospital wing for sure, and I'd most likely not be able to do anything, including Quidditch until whatever was going on was cleared up. I had to say something!  
  
"Please Professor! Maybe it's just this month I'm feeling a little unfamiliar with things. You know, I have a Quidditch tournament to prepare for, so maybe I'm just stressed about that. When it's all over it'll probably go away in about a week or so. Then I'll be as normal as ever, I promise!" I insisted.  
  
However, the Quidditch match ended (with a Gryffindor victory over Ravenclaw with a score of 110 to 53), but a week passed and another, slowly it turned to a month, and still my memory was as dull as ever. In fact, it had gotten worse.  
  
I began to realize that everyday it seemed I was assigned to a new feeling I would carry with me for the day ahead. The feeling could range from sadness or guilt to shame and even cruelty. Once every few weeks, I had this sudden rush of maliciousness and I wanted to cause pain to anything within distance of me, human or non-human. One day, I was caught in the girl's bathroom on the fourth floor strangling a rat to death. Parviti Patil had come in to wash off the remains of potion liquid on her robes when she shrieked in horror of seeing such an awful sight. The piercing scream seemed to have shaken me out of the trance and into reality, for at that moment all I wanted to do was pound the life out of her as well. I quickly lied that I needed the rat for my potions lesson and that Professor Snape was making me do it. Although she didn't look entirely convinced, it did the trick and she kept to herself about it. I was relieved. Not only did I not want to be found killing "things" at school, I didn't want people like the Patil sisters to be spilling the beans and spreading rumors that could cost me my Quidditch postion.  
  
But, no matter how many notes I took in class or spells I tried on myself, my memory was gradually getting worse; I could sense it. It began to get harder to even remember my way into the Great Hall everyday, let alone my seat in class. I began to get scared; This was exactly what happened to me in my first year at Hogwarts when I was possessed by Lord Voldemort. Maybe it was happening again.  
  
My loss of memory was now a steady bother, but what made it even more suspicious, and frightening all the same, were my frequent, chanceful meetings with Draco Malfoy. It looked as if everywhere I went I'd see him, or at least a part of him either walking or hurrying past me. The day of the rat incident, I was on my way out of the bathroom and I caught a glimpse of his feet hastily dash behind a tall pillar in a way that looked like he had been listening to the squeals from both the rat and Parviti the entire time. I also seemed to notice one other thing in this whole memory loss affair, and it was that every time I made eye contact with Malfoy, my brains started to freeze up and I'd think only about my feelings at the moment.  
  
I needed to find out what was going on, and why my mind all of a sudden betrayed me ("I can't be that old, can I?"). I somehow knew that Draco Malfoy was behind this, if not simply involved.  
  
Clues. That's all I needed. Clues.  
  
"Watch out, Draco Malfoy, I'm on your case!"  
  
Authors Note: I noticed that the first two chapters switched from present tense to past tense back and forth. I tried reading them through, and they make no sense whatsoever. I apologize, and I'll try to fix it. Thanks for reading chapter 4!  
  
Please R+R, thank you!! 


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